D.A. Prince


Faint Hopes

(with apologies to Kipling)

If you could listen and not aim to wrangle—
Remember that to tango it takes two;
If you could see things, sometimes, from my angle,
A little more of me and less of you;
If you had sometimes been a little kinder,
If complimenting hadn’t been so hard
Or when my birthday fell (without reminder)
You’d turned up with both flowers and a card.

If you could mute your urge to godlike glory
And take on board that you have feet of clay;
If you could see that I, too, had a story,
That your attention might have made me stay;
If you had grasped that equal still meant equal
And being top-dog wouldn’t do—Of course,
our earlier lives would have a happy sequel.
But as it is we’re heading for divorce.

“Faint Hopes” first appeared in The Spectator.

D.A. Prince lives mainly in Leicestershire, UK. Aside from two full collections of poetry (both with HappenStance Press) plus four pamphlets, she spends a regrettable amount of time hanging around in the world of light verse.